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<title>ravelled sleave by Kuroeia (Empatheia)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29294283">ravelled sleave</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empatheia/pseuds/Kuroeia'>Kuroeia (Empatheia)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kyou Kara Maou!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2009-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2009-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:28:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>114</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29294283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empatheia/pseuds/Kuroeia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many kinds of love. His is one of the quiet ones.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Shibuya Yuuri &amp; Gwendal von Voltaire</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>ravelled sleave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Old fic cross-posted from FFN. Requested by forthrightly on LiveJournal, drabble post 2009/09/28.</p><p>Prompt: knit</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The shutters rattle in a sudden breeze. Gwendal gets up to fasten them more securely, but they jump out of his hands the moment he undoes the latch and swing wide open. The full force of the October wind flies into his face and makes his eyes water.</p><p>He takes a deep breath. There is a sharp edge to it that he knows well: snow. It will be a cold winter.</p><p>After wrestling the shutters closed and tying them firmly shut, he returns to his chair and picks up the mangled greenish mess that will, in a day or two, hopefully resemble a sweater.</p><p>Yuuri is too thin these days to go without.</p><p>X</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Work is intentionally this length, complete, and will not be updated.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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